


When It Comes Down To It

by FangQueen



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, brief frottage, redeemed!Draco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-07
Updated: 2016-10-07
Packaged: 2018-08-20 02:15:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8232503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FangQueen/pseuds/FangQueen
Summary: He’d been told once—by a certain ex of his, who shall remain nameless—that he has the emotional range of a teaspoon. Maybe so, but there was something about the way Malfoy’s panicked, gray eyes were pleading with him.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [reeby10](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reeby10/gifts).



> Written for the [HP Drizzle](http://hp-drizzle.livejournal.com/61037.html#t1050733) 2016 fest on LJ! Based on the following prompt:
> 
>  **Prompter:** reeby10  
>  **Prompt:** "People // are not // rain // or // snow // or autumn // leaves; they // do not // look // beautiful // when // they // fall." — Nav K.  
>  **Suggested Character(s)/Pairings:** Dudley/Harry, Draco/Ron, Pansy/any  
>  **Any optional extras:** Something angsty with a happy or at least somewhat hopeful ending please. No infidelity or major character death.
> 
> To my prompter: Thank you so much for the wonderful quote! It really inspired me! Unfortunately, I feel this fic has turned out a lot fluffier than intended. I hope you still enjoy it! ^^’

The ruckus that had started when Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy were escorted from the courtroom minutes ago hadn’t shown any signs of dying down any time soon. Their son had been permitted by the judge to take a moment to say goodbye. Instead, he’d declined and fled, at which point his mother had broken down--she’d required the assistance of her husband in order to exit herself. No one had been sure where the younger Malfoy had run off to, but no one had chosen to do anything to find out either, figuring he needed some space. Harry and Hermione had been speaking in hushed tones in the pew behind him, and George, who was sitting next to him, was getting that distant look in his eyes that he hated. The atmosphere felt more oppressive than necessary, and so Ron had decided that the blonde had the right idea and went out to get some air himself.

What had just been vaguely-threatening, dark clouds earlier that morning had now turned into a torrential downpour. He wondered if his flimsy umbrella could even stand up to it, but he took his chances and stepped out onto the walkway that split the front lawn of the courthouse. Not surprising that there wasn’t another soul in sight. He shuffled slowly along, hoping to have a clear head by the time everyone else caught up to him. The sentencing that had just occurred was the final leg of the Malfoy trial, which probably meant they were done for awhile. It would be nice to have a break, after so long. He, Harry, and Hermione had been key witnesses in nearly every case presented since the Final Battle, and it had been an ordeal, to say the least, sitting in that stifling room each and every day, listening to all that. This last one had been the worst.

It was safe to say that they all--his family included--had had a _huge_ change of heart concerning Draco in the last couple weeks. His testimony...Ron didn’t have words for it. He’d never had any clue what had been going on behind the sneers and jibes all these years, and he knew he wasn’t the only one who felt guilty about never bothering to look deeper into it. In fact, Hermione had mentioned just yesterday that they should invite him out with them to dinner tonight. Something about them knowing that his parents would get nothing short of life in Azkaban, and that that would mean he was truly alone for the first time. Harry and Ginny had agreed, and Ron had attempted to feign that his interest wasn’t piqued by the idea.

Come to think of it, where was the little bugger, anyway? He couldn’t have gotten far; the Aurors had enacted a tracking spell, and they would’ve been on him the second he’d stepped a toe outside of the grounds. Ron scanned his surroundings as best he could through the mist, eventually lighting upon a gazebo in the distance, where he saw a distinctly Malfoy-esque, hunched back. He headed closer, trying to see what the hell he was doing, and was a little taken aback by what he found.

He was seated on a bench inside the structure, bent over with his face in his hands. Ron didn’t have to observe him for long to know he was crying. Before recently, he couldn’t say that he’d ever seen the likes of it. It had been odd to start humanizing him this late into knowing him. The redhead realized that he was probably intruding on something very private and tried to turn away without Malfoy noticing him, but his head snapped up. Then he was looking at him with surprise, and Ron froze.

He’d been told once--by a certain ex of his, who shall remain nameless--that he has the emotional range of a teaspoon. Maybe so, but there was something about the way Malfoy’s panicked, gray eyes were pleading with him. After all he’d heard him say over the past few days--hell, after all he’d heard about that “lifestyle” in the past _year_ , he couldn't very well leave him like this. Certainly no one would claim the Gryffindor was the best at comforting others, but the poor kid really looked like he needed a hug, and as Ron was the only one in the vicinity, he figured it would have to be him to take one for the team. However, as he half-jogged over to him, expertly avoiding the large, mud-filled puddle between them, Malfoy began to recoil as if a dementor was approaching him, rather than just one of his old school rivals. Of course, he could only go so far, considering there was but one exit to the gazebo, which Ron was now blocking as he closed and shook off his umbrella.

Malfoy was still on the bench, but had slid back as much as he could, and he was hastily wiping his reddened cheeks. It was obvious he had sprinted here through the rain, as his hair was matted and dripping, and his clothing was sticking wetly to his body. Ron had the notion that it would’ve been a pretty sight under better circumstances. Oh, hell...Okay, _any_ sight of him was always pretty. He’d resolved recently that he needed to start being more honest with himself. He didn’t know what, exactly, he was, other than a sucker for beautiful blondes of seemingly any gender. Always had been for the one in front of him, anyway, even when he was still calling him a prat and thinking he was just about the most evil person he’d ever encountered, save the Dark Lord himself. Hermione had said that it was a process, this self-discovery thing he was apparently going through lately, and, well, they’d broken up over more than the fact that, after shaking off the delirium of putting their lives at risk just by waking up each morning, he’d realized she was like a second sister to him.

“Hey. You okay?”

The Slytherin narrowed his eyes at him, clearly confused as to why this conversation was even taking place to begin with. He didn’t blame him; he wasn’t entirely sure himself. When he responded, it was nothing short of what Ron had expected, but the phrase lacked the usual venom. Instead, he sounded simply exhausted, like he had too much going on right now to bother with the headache of having to talk to him on top of it. “What the fuck do you want, Weasley?”

Ron took a deep breath and swallowed the urge to insult him. Some habits were harder to break than others. Once he felt he could trust himself to say something more polite, he spoke slowly, deliberately, so that there was no chance of a misunderstanding. “I want to know if you’re okay.”

Now he looked like the other boy had just informed him that the Second War had been one long April Fools’ joke. “You want to know if I’m _okay_?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Fair question, he’d give him that. He could already tell that he was failing at the “providing comfort” thing, and he didn’t foresee this going anywhere good at this point. So, he sighed, motioning as if he were leaving, and muttered, “Screw it, nevermind, forget I asked.” But he stopped and turned around again when he heard him suddenly spring to his feet.

“No no no no no, hold on a minute, don’t you dare! You came over here for a reason, didn’t you? You wanted to know _what_? If I’m _okay_?! Bullshit!”

There was a shrillness in his voice that made Ron’s eyes widen. Prior to the trials, he couldn’t recall a single time when he’d seen him this on edge. Harry’d mentioned one or two instances, but every time he’d been around him, even when he was angry, he was always so prim and proper it made the hot-tempered Weasley want to punch him, if for no other reason than to watch him break for just a moment. Now, he’d witnessed him fall apart on the stand, and here he was forcing him to do it again. This was not at all going according to plan. He’d intended to check up on him, let him know that people were here if he needed someone to talk to, and then leave it at that. Ron opened his mouth to retort, but quickly shut it again as Malfoy’s own rant bowled him over.

“Have you been having a nap in there this entire time?! I just sent my own parents to _Azkaban_! Can you even begin to comprehend what that feels like? I don’t think you can! And since when do you all even care, anyway? I mean, really, please do forgive me for being just a tad uncertain about your assumed collective one-eighty, considering the last time I was caught showing any sign of weakness over all I’ve had going on in my life, I was slashed up and nearly left for dead by your _dear_ friend, Potter. So, in answer to your question: no, I’m not fucking okay. I’ve not been okay for _years_ , and never once have any of you ever stopped to ask. No, you all waited until I was about to go away myself to get up there and say all these ‘wonderful things’ you’d supposedly recently realized about me! Oh, and thank you ever so fucking much for getting me off, by the way, but at the price I had to pay for it…” He choked and had to catch himself. Fresh tears were welling in his eyes, and he was scarlet from the neck up out of fury and despair. Again, Ron wanted to say something, but he couldn’t. Malfoy just looked so wretched, and he had a feeling that he was using this opportunity to purge a lot of things he’d always wanted to tell one of them. “At the price I had to pay for it...That I was coerced to say all of that about them, _in front of them_ , in front of _everyone_! Did they deserve it? Of course they did! But knowing that didn’t make it any easier, and it certainly doesn’t help me sleep at night, either! You have no idea what it’s doing to me to know that that man--a Death Eater, yes, who’s abused me in numerous ways--is still my _father_. And that that woman--who stood by and let him do all of it--is still my _mother_! And they’re going to jail, and not me! Forget about whether or not I was forced into it: I took the Mark all the same! I get off scot-free, and I get their money and the Manor after they finally fucking release it from being a crime scene, but what’s the use in any of it?! I don’t have a family, I never really have! I’ve got two goddamn friends left who actually give a shit and still stand by me! I haven’t had anyone to come home to in months! All I do every day is go back to that hole-in-the-wall flat the Ministry has me set up in, sit and eat dinner by myself, then wait for the next shit-show of a day here! And no one in their right mind will hire me when all’s said and done! So I’m not going to Azkaban with them? So what?! What will I even have going for me after everything, anyway?!”

His rant was causing him to descend even further into madness, and all his counterpart wanted to do now was find some way to get him to calm down. The tears that had formed were streaming down his face like a river, and he heaved with every sentence as if it was becoming increasingly difficult for him to speak correctly. Ron briefly shut his eyes to gather his own thoughts, more frustrated with himself for causing this than with him. He was right, he’d been through an awful lot, and if anyone had earned having a meltdown today, Ron’s vote would side one hundred percent with him. Although he’d drowned him out completely by the time he opened his eyes again, Draco was still going at full speed, and the ginger interupted the only way he knew how:

“Merlin, Malfoy, would you shut it and c’mere already?!”

Said boy immediately froze and blinked at him as if he’d slapped him. Ron had allowed his umbrella to drop to the wooden boards beneath them, and Malfoy glanced warily down at his outstretched arms, then back up at his face, before finally surging forward. The force with which he smacked into him nearly made him lose his footing, but Ron steadied the both of them and embraced him, compressing the slighter frame against his own. The blonde’s face ended up buried in his chest as his sobbing started anew. He could feel him trembling, and his bony hands were gripping the front of Ron’s jacket hard enough to turn his knuckles white. There was a bit of time spent, from his part, on growing accustomed to having Draco Malfoy, of all people, in his arms. But after the initial awkwardness faded, he found that holding him wasn’t as strange as he’d imagined it would be. He actually found it quite nice, but he would’ve killed anyone who claimed he felt as much. A few moments passed before he realized that Malfoy was trying to keep his voice down; he assumed it was due to being ashamed. And so he squeezed him tighter and rested his chin on top of his head as he said:

“It’s okay, you don’t need to hold back.”

The rain still pounded harshly around them, effectively blocking out any other noise in the area. But they were in their own little bubble there, and Ron’s stomach clenched at the anguish he heard in every sound Draco made. He did his best to help him ride it out, whispering things that the truly superb caretakers in his life--namely, Hermione and his mum--had used for him whenever he was upset. Whether or not any of it really did anything for him, he don’t know, but gradually the young man’s shrieks became fewer and farther between, until he was merely sniffling and hiccuping. Eventually, Ron loosened his hold on him, and Malfoy shifted back half a step to withdraw a handkerchief from his pocket and blow his nose. God, he looked a wreck. His eyes were swollen to hell, and before he’d started to wipe it, he’d had snot running every which way. In fact…

“Oh shit, I’m sorry!” They’d both realized it at the same time, and once he was done righting himself, Draco had reached out to brush the mess he’d left streaked across Ron’s shirt. After he got most of it off, he glanced up with an anxious expression, but it turned into a smile when he saw the one looking back at him. Neither could say why they were--it was more out of nervousness than anything, most likely--but it lifted both their spirits to recognize how much lighter the air around them appeared to be now.

“Don’t worry about it. C’mon, really, it’s fine!” Ron insisted kindly.

Draco continued to rub incessantly at that last spot, and Ron enclosed a hand around his to stop him. The blush that painted his cheeks only made the redhead smirk. He instantly felt guilty for embarrassing him, as he clearly had, but he couldn’t help it. If he was being honest with himself, that was exactly the reaction he would’ve expected. Of course, he’d heard rumors about the Slytherin’s preferences throughout their school days. Ron found it only fitting that he should give him a little payback over all the questioning he’d caused for _him_ over the years, but instead he released him. Now wasn’t the time. Draco slipped the handkerchief back into his pocket, and Ron was still grinning to myself as he picked up and made to open his umbrella.

“You think you’re ready to go back in? If not, it’s okay, I just have to meet up with everyone, and I…” _Feel bad about leaving you here_ , was what he’d meant to say, but the words escaped him. Draco seemed to understand, regardless, and he didn’t even put up much of a fight when Ron slung an arm across his shoulders and pulled him under the cover with him as they exited the gazebo. The blonde’s own ended up around his waist, and Ron imagined someone who didn’t know them at all and saw them right then would think them pretty good friends.

They were home free. Draco had had the good cry he’d obviously desperately needed, and Ron had somehow broken through that wall, just like they’d all been wanting to. He’d managed to lay the first stepping stones towards the relationship they wished to achieve with him, and he was feeling pretty great about it. Unfortunately, neither of them were paying much attention as they trekked through the grass towards the pathway to the courthouse…

“Hey, so, when we’re done here, a bunch of us are going to--oh fuck!”

“Ah!”

They both screamed as their feet slid through the mud and out from under them. Ron saw stars when his head hit the ground, but it was his ass that landed first, and a pain shot up through it into the base of his spine. He laid there for a bit to allow his heart rate to slow again. When he finally came around enough to realize that his hair and the back of his clothes were soaking from more than just rain water, he groaned. Great, well, he couldn’t really go back inside like this, now could he? Although, he could probably spell most of it off, but still. His palms got covered themselves as he used them as leverage to push himself up to a sitting position. Only Malfoy’s left side was dirty, which confirmed that _Ron_ had actually been the one to go down, and that he’d just taken him with him.

“Oh my god, I’m _so_ , _so_ sorry--”

If he knew him at all, he would’ve bet Draco was furious that his expensive outfit had been ruined--but no, he was on his knees, staring at him, and there was a glint in his eyes he’d never seen before. “Pfft!” he started for a moment, clapping a hand to his mouth to stifle it, but it was no use: he soon exploded into laughter that nearly made him double over.

Ron soon joined him, although he asked defensively, “What’s so funny?”

He could barely reply, clutching his abdomen as he tried. “Y-you’re...you’re hair…”

Truth be told, he was sure it was horrendous at the moment. Didn’t stop him from retaliating, though. The look of outrage when the scoop of mud he’d lobbed at him hit the Slytherin square in the side of the head was priceless.

“What the hell was that for?!”

He threw a glob back, and of course Ron returned the favor, and so on. Soon enough, they were cackling and wrestling like children. It wasn’t until Ron had pinned Draco under him on the ground, holding him down by his wrists, that he considered this might’ve been a poor choice. Even for the disheveled state of his own hair and the remaining puffiness around his eyes from earlier, Ron thought he was one of the most gorgeous things he’d ever seen. He’d intended to let go of him immediately, but his virgin prick had other ideas, and he found he couldn’t move at all once he’d realized how hard he was. Damnit. But the mirth hadn’t left Draco’s face; in fact, he was still grinning up at him, and Ron knew why when he attempted shifting his pelvis away from him enough to hide what was happening and just ended up connecting with the boy’s own budding erection.

The rain had slowed to a slight drizzle. Ron knew he should get off of him, but his muscles couldn’t figure out how, and all his hormonal brain wanted to do at the moment was grind his hips down and proceed to snog the life out of him. The silence broke with the clearing of the blonde’s throat, and he said gleefully enough to make sure his companion was the one blushing this time: “So, what were you saying before? When we fell?”

“…Well.” This was not the setting in which he’d imagined asking him this, and he knew it was going to come out completely wrong when he said it now. “ _I was saying_ , when we’re done for the day, a bunch of us are heading over to the Leaky Cauldron to have dinner. And probably get tanked.” Draco snorted playfully at that, and he responded likewise. “Honestly, I think we all need it. But anyway, I, uh...I was wondering if...and if you don’t want to, I mean, I get it, really, so no worries there, but Hermione and Harry and I were talking, and we thought it might be good for you, I guess, and they--I mean, _I_ wanted to see if you’d like to come with?”

“Weasley. Are you asking me out?”

“I-- _what_?! No! No no no, absolutely not, I--”

“Because the answer’s yes.”

Ron felt like he’d just gotten the wind knocked out of him. Did he really just say…? He did, didn’t he? He hadn’t heard wrong? He must’ve. There was no possible way that Malfoy had just agreed to a date with him. Unfortunately, he didn’t get a chance to clarify, because a gasp that sounded distinctly like his mother’s suddenly burst through the safe little world they’d been lost in together for the past few minutes, and Ron grimaced as he glanced up to find none other than his family’s matriarch just beyond them on the sidewalk, peering down at them with her arms crossed over her chest.

“Ronald Bilius Weasley, what in Merlin’s name do you think you’re doing?”

He tried to explain, but ended up just spurting nonsense. Lord, this had to be one of the most compromising positions she ever could’ve found him in. They both scrambled to their feet, and Ron noted out of the corner of his eye that Draco was discreetly adjusting his hard-on right about the same time he was doing so himself. To his utter chagrin, he could now see that his father, as well as his siblings, plus Harry and Hermione, were gathered behind her. Goddamnit, could this get any worse?

“Don’t tell me you two were fighting!” The disappointment his mother felt at the concept was apparent. That would’ve absolutely been the case in the past, so Ron couldn’t really fault her for assuming. He did his best to reassure her, although she didn’t seem to believe him completely.

“No! We slipped, is all, I was just helping him up!”

“Uh-huh.”

“Honestly! Right?” He turned to Malfoy for help, but he was sporting a far too amused expression for the situation, which irritated him, and merely nodded.

She sighed at his gesture, concluding, Ron assumed, that even if it wasn’t true, it wasn’t worth the argument. “Fine. Get over here, the both of you!”

They stepped carefully around the puddles to meet them all on the pathway. Hermione and Ginny were crowded under the same umbrella, and they were both giggling at him. Ron knew it was because of a lot more than the fact that he was muddy from head to toe, so he glared right back. His parents ushered them all under the awning in front of the courthouse, where they tried to magically siphon off as much of the muck as they could. Eventually, they concluded it was hopeless, especially when the entire group still inside began to pour out the entrance, forcing them to move over. Arthur informed them that they were done for the day, anyway, and that they should just head home and change at this point. The Aurors that had been assigned to accompany Malfoy from his temporary housing to the trial and back came to collect him, and he left with them, but not before catching Ron’s forearm when no one was looking and saying under his breath:

“So, Leaky Cauldron, yeah?”

“Yeah, of course. In, like...an hour?”

“Sounds great. See you in a bit, then.”

As he watched him walk away, Hermione sidled up to him, looking too mischievous for her own good. “What was that all about?”

“Oh! Uh...Well. I asked him if he wanted to come out with us tonight...”

“Really? And what did he say?”

He gave her a sideways glance, thinking that he probably didn’t need to actually answer, she was so damn perceptive, and the grin she flashed back told him he was right.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos/comments = <3!
> 
> Come find me on [Tumblr](https://ohlookagaydraco.tumblr.com/) and [LJ](http://fangqueen.livejournal.com/) as well!


End file.
